Abstract Concepts
by Charlie Bird
Summary: [for David week] I am a science geek. I have been for most of my life. I'm not quite sure what started my fascination, but I can only assume that it must have been quite an explosion to make me sixteen years old and still a nerd. [heavily revised]


A/N: I first wrote this for last year's David week, and since then it's gone through two more drafts. I'm much happier with the current version, so I've decided to post it. Please let me know what you think.

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**Abstract Concepts**

**I. The Big Bang**

The most widely accepted theory for the origins of the universe is the Big Bang theory. Highly simplified, the idea is that the universe began with the explosion of a condensed ball of gas no bigger than a marble. The gases expanded rapidly, creating vast amounts of empty space, dotted with an occasional galaxy like our own Milky Way.

Everything that exists as we know it - the material of our bodies, the bodies of animals and insects, even the stuff that air is made of - came from that tiny little ball of gas. Of course, this does mean that one might as well treat every moment as a family reunion. "Why, hello there, Brother Oxygen Molecule! And Auntie Carbon Dioxide – how nice to see you again. And again. And again."

What this means is that we are all made of the same stuff. The genetic material of each and every person who is living, has lived, or will live, is already right here on earth. But of course, it takes two people to combine their DNA and make a new person, a person who will carry on the unbreakable link that connects humankind to its earliest origins. This is the sort of thing that fascinates me.

At the age of six, I went through my own Big Bang. It began when they told me that the earth is round. All the other toddlers in my kindergarten class raised a worldly, skeptical eyebrow and then promptly forgot that the shape of the Earth was supposed to matter. I, however, found this absolutely fascinating, and came running home to tell my mother, "Mama, mama! The earth is round!"

My mother loves this story. Out of all the "wasn't Davey cute?" stories, this is, without doubt, the one that gets told the most. It's right up there with the story of my first ice cream cone, and the time I tried to fake having the chicken pox with a red marker.

Ever since then, I've been a science geek. I'm proud of it too – proud that when my children come running home to ask how the earth is round, but we still don't fall off it, I'll be able to explain to them exactly why that is.

I know the answer. I know about gravity, and I know how to explain it. I even know why the sky is blue. I know about astronomy, and physics, and biology... and it doesn't seem to matter that every nook and cranny of the universe is being systematically explained to me. I'm still fascinated.

The Big Bang was an explosion that created a universe, a vast space that continues to expand every day. My own big bang was smaller, but it too created something. Like a yearning for knowledge, an insatiable curiosity about the nooks and crannies of life and death, my own universe began in the mind of a young boy, and every day it grows.

**II. Equal and Opposite Forces**

The world is full of cause and effect. For every force, Sir Isaac Newton told us, there is an equal and opposite force. For every action there is a reaction. An object, once set in motion, will continue in the same direction, at the same speed, in the same manner, unless it is acted on by another force.

My second to last class of the day on Tuesdays is Physics with Mr. Delaney. I think he thinks that he and I share some sort of bond due to our mutual geekiness. We don't. It's all in his imagination. And while I do respect him and think he's intelligent, he annoys the crap out of me just as much as he annoys everyone else.

Class had just been dismissed, and I was planning on heading to the library during my free period to prep for Science Olympiad, which was coming up in two weeks. Unfortunately, Mr. Delaney beckoned me to the front of the room as my fellow students brushed past me and out the door, looking relieved.

I walked up to his desk apprehensively. He smiled at me, his lips straining a little at the effort.

"David. I, uh, I was looking over the most recent quiz scores." He shuffled a stack of papers.

My stomach clenched and pressed gently against my bladder. I tried to remember all of the questions on the quiz, and what I possibly could have done wrong.

"As always, you had the highest score in the class."

I let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Your essay was – as usual – amazing. And when I was reading it over, it made me realize just how talented you are at explaining things. Do you have any little siblings?"

I nodded. "Yeah, a little brother."

He nodded. "Well, that's why I was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me out. How would you feel about doing some peer tutoring?"

I considered it briefly, and then said, "Sure, I guess."

"Oh, good! There are a few students in the Introduction to Physics class who are struggling. You're so good with abstract concepts, and of course I want to give them all the help that I can. You have a free period now, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Great! Why don't you join me, then, and I'll get you set up." We walked into the hallway. "Really, David, I'm so glad you agreed to this." He leaned in conspiratorially. "The administration has been putting some pressure on me to help out one student in particular, but I honestly don't have the time – what with teaching classes, and the science section of the school paper, and the Science Olympiad coming up… you know Jack Kelly, don't you?"

I shrugged. Who _didn't_ know Jack Kelly?

"He's getting a D- in my class right now, and any failing grade that isn't brought up before the end of the semester means he'll have to drop out of the football team. And God knows what the school would do without him playing."

I nodded vaguely. I had never paid much attention to school sports. Of course I knew who Jack Kelly was, and what he did – star quarterback, M.V.P. two years in a row – but beyond that he had no relevance to my sheltered world of intellectual study. The idea of tutoring some of Mr. Delaney's Intro to Physics students so he could work on Jack Kelly appealed to me for only one reason: the chance to show off with something I was actually _good_ at. And, of course, my mother would be proud, but that didn't really excite me very much.

We entered the hushed atmosphere of the library. Ms. Hamilton smiled at me from behind her clerical desk. Ms. Hamilton and I had developed an odd sort of friendship when I was a freshman. She was new to the school that year too, and we spent every lunch period together in the first few months discussing the classics over our brown bag lunches. She'd made friends with the staff eventually, and I went back to eating alone, but we still traded book recommendations when we passed in the hallways or when I dropped by to visit.

Mr. Delaney led me to the area set aside for students and tutors.

"Oh, good, Jack! You're here!" Mr. Delaney said.

Jack Kelly was slouched in an uncomfortable plastic library chair with a spiral notebook open in front of him. He glanced up when Mr. Delaney greeted him and then went back to doodling 3-D cubes on the lined paper.

Mr. Delaney turned to me. "Well, David, I'm sure Jack can fill you in on what we've been studying. I'll leave the actual work to you." He chuckled stiffly, clapped a hand on my shoulder and turned to go.

My stomach dropped to my knees. Jack gave a bored sigh and slouched lower.

"Wait! Mr. Delaney! You want _me_ to tutor him?" I asked in a hushed whisper.

Mr. Delaney nodded. "What did you think I wanted?"

"I thought you were going to tutor him while I took on some of the other kids. I… I can't work with _him_!"

Mr. Delaney regarded me with curiosity. "Why not?"

I gave him a panicked look. "He's… I… it's just…"

Mr. Delaney smiled at me. "Oh, David. I know, Jack's a menace on the football field, but really," he said, lowering his voice, "you're much better at physics than he is. You'll be fine!" He waved jauntily at Jack. "Ride 'em, Cowboy!" He laughed and walked away.

Jack stared after him with disgust. Jack had a nickname around the school, coined from the personalized victory dance that he performed after he made touchdowns. It was fine when his teammates used it, or his girl of the week, but even I will admit that when Mr. Delaney said it, it was quite unpleasant.

I watched as Mr. Delaney disappeared through the library doors, and then snuck a glance at Jack.

Jack looked at me, and then raised an eyebrow. "So? Are you gonna help me, or not?"

I sighed, and nodded.

"Cool."

"Right." I sat down across from him, and watched as he pulled a bulky textbook from his backpack.

The next forty-five minutes were an odd cross between torture and elation. On the one hand, I got to spend all of it thinking about Physics, and trying to make the difficult things make simple sense, which was fun. On the other hand I had to put up with Jack's sports metaphors, and his snail's pace progress.

And then, on the third hand… there's no denying that Jack Kelly is an extremely attractive young man. Tall, muscular, silky blonde hair, mesmerizing brown eyes – one doesn't have to wonder at his multitudes of female fans. His good looks are probably the reason that the tutoring session seemed to drag on, and then to end much too quickly.

I did know who Jack Kelly was. I knew very well who Jack Kelly was. I'd just never realized exactly who he _was_. Not the most intelligent human being, but not _stupid_, exactly. Self-effacing. Goofy. Amiable. Much more than a pretty face.

His skin seemed to glow in the late afternoon light, and when he checked his watch and announced that he had to get to the locker room, a part of me screamed out "The locker room? Oh _God_, take me with you!"

Obviously I didn't say that. I just nodded and smiled.

"You made good progress," I said.

He chuckled. "Sure, Dave. Sure." He packed up his stuff. "So we'll do this again next week?" he asked.

"Yeah, definitely. Is once a week enough?"

"Probably not," he said, grinning. "When's your free block? Maybe we can do it two or three times instead."

"I'll get your schedule from Mr. Delaney and set something up," I said.

"Great. You're awesome, Dave. Thanks."

I shrugged.

He reached out and grasped my right hand, and I waited expectantly for some sort of electric spark between our palms, or maybe for him to sock me in the gut. Instead he smiled, shook my hand, and left the library.

**III. Gravitational Attraction**

All objects, no matter how far away from one another, have some form of gravitational interaction. An asteroid can be orbiting a distant star at the far end of the universe and still have a gravitational pull on the Earth's moon, even an infinitesimally small one.

Jack and I continued our tutoring sessions, three times a week. I spent the periods trying to concentrate on the lesson, and not on how mesmerizingly beautiful Jack was, and Jack spent them doing something that few people thought he was actually capable of – working.

And, gradually, almost immeasurably, he began to improve. The studying started to pay off, and after one grueling, two-hour drill he passed a physics exam with an 87, marking the highest score he'd ever gotten in the class.

It was during the session after that test that things first started to change. We were going over the problems he had missed, and we'd just reached the extra credit question when Jack began to get distracted (despite his intensity, he was graced with the attention span of a young golden retriever).

"So," he said, leaning back in his chair and balancing it on two legs, "what kind of music does a guy like you listen to?"

"A guy like me?" I said, allowing myself to get side-tracked. "What, like, a nerd?"

He laughed. "Yeah."

I thought for a moment. "My favorite musical artist is probably Cat Stevens."

He nodded. "Cool, cool."

"What about you?" I asked.

He spoke without hesitation. "The White Stripes, man!"

I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

"But you know who they are, right?" Jack asked, sounding concerned at my lack of culture.

"Yeah," I said, with a shrug, "my sister is a fan."

"You have a sister?" He sounded surprised. Then, with a wicked grin, he asked, "Is she hot?"

I rolled my eyes. "She's my _sister_, Jack."

"Well, yeah, but… okay, true. Bad question. More important question," he said, pointing a pencil at me, "is she single?"

I grinned. "What, they don't even have to be hot anymore?"

Jack threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, burn," he said. He smiled at me, with a funny expression on his face. "Okay, favorite movie?"

"_Dogma_," I said quickly.

"Yes! Kevin Smith owns!" he said. He held his palm out for a high five, and I slapped it, savoring the little sting.

"And you?" I asked.

"Did you ever see _I, Robot_?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Will Smith, Jack? Honestly…"

"Hey, he was cool in _Men in Black_," Jack said defensively. "But anyway, dude, you should see _I, Robot_. It's cool, 'cause it's got action and stuff, but it's all philosophical too. Questioning the existence of, like, human nature."

I grinned. "I never pinned you as the philosophical type, Jack."

He shrugged, and smiled. "I never pictured you as the type to like Kevin Smith," he said. "More like… the biopic of Albert Einstein, or something."

"Hey, speaking of," I said, "there was this awesome thing on PBS last night."

He laughed again. "PBS, Davey? Never mind. You've been demoted to un-cool status again."

We smiled at each other, and then got back to work.

I could never be quite sure what it was I'd said to make Jack like me, but from that day on something started happening. There was some shift in the way we were together, some undefinable pull. We started nodding to each other in the hallways as we passed, and nods progressed to smiles, smiles progressed to waves and sometimes even friendly words were exchanged.

The tutoring continued. The improvements continued.

And the friendship, above all, grew stronger.

IV. Quantum Leap 

A lot of people think that a quantum leap is a very big step from one stage to another. This isn't true. A quantum leap, visible only at the subatomic level, is tiny. It is, by definition, the transition from one stage to another without anything in between.

Jack was, by no means, the smartest student in his class, but he was consistently getting 85 and higher on all his quizzes – and not just in Physics. I'd also taken on the duty of helping him with some other subjects: American Literature and French II, specifically.

His GPA rose from a 2.9 to a 3.2. The drama of football season heightened, and I could tell that Jack was feeling the pressure. It suddenly felt as though my duty during tutoring sessions was not just to help him learn, but to relax him. More than once he would storm into the library, glaring at everyone, daring them to speak, and only when we'd taken over a table in the back and started going over his homework did he loosen up and start to smile again.

"Hey, Davey," he said one Friday, "have you ever been to a game?"

"A game?" I asked, shuffling his flashcards.

"Yeah, a game. A football game. Y'know, that thing where we toss a ball around and try to score points and stuff?"

I rolled my eyes. "You mean that stupid sport where people tackle each other and wear lots of poofy clothing and dorky helmets?"

Jack laughed. "Yeah, that."

I shook my head. "Football is… not my thing."

"No kidding," he said dryly. "You should come check it out, though. We're playing Hearst Prep on Friday."

I shrugged.

"No, really," he said, pressing the subject. "You'd like it if you just came. I mean, okay, maybe you don't like football, but it's still fun. The crowds, the people, the snacks, the band… it's, y'know," he searched for a good word, "invigorating."

I considered him for a moment. "Okay. I'll think about it."

Jack grinned. "And really, Davey, what would you be doing instead?"

"Hey, just because I prefer math to football doesn't mean I don't have a life!" I said, half-jokingly.

"Yeah? You got a hot date, or something?" Jack said with interest, as though the likelihood of me actually having a date was not too ridiculous to consider.

"Maybe I do," I said, attempting a coy smile.

He whistled. "That's hot. So, what's she like? Smart, I'll bet. Probably plays an instrument. Is she on the math team? Oh! Is it that Sandra chick?"

I snorted. "No. It's not 'that Sandra chick'. She's… not my type."

"No?" Jack sounded disappointed at being wrong.

I shook my head.

"So," he insisted, "what is your type?"

'You,' I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled and shuffled the flashcards. "Okay, what does _noix de coco _mean?"

"Umm," Jack said, biting his lower lip. "Coconut?"

"Very good," I said. "_Fraise_?"

"Blueberry?"

I shook my head.

"Strawberry."

"Correct. Alright, easy one: _la banane_?"

"Banana," he said, smiling. "Hey, can we not do fruits?"

"Why not?" I asked.

"They're boring. Do the verbs."

"But fruits are my specialty," I responded, smiling, and shuffling the flashcards.

He laughed, and waited for me to give him another word.

Half an hour later, Ms. Hamilton checked in with us and said that she was leaving early.

"David, would you lock up the library for me when you two are done?" she asked timidly.

"Yeah, sure." I took the ring of keys from her outstretched hand.

"Look, Dave," Jack said, "Ms. Hamilton has a hot date too. Right?" He grinned at her, and she grinned back automatically because Jack's smile was infectious like that. I rolled my eyes.

"It's just my weekly book club, actually." She blushed, and twisted the strap of her purse around her finger.

"Don't worry, Ms. Hamilton. We'll make sure the library stays safe. Have fun at your book club." Jack winked at her, practically oozing charisma, which would have been greasy and detestable on anyone else, but which Jack wore like a subtle French perfume.

Ms. Hamilton laughed. "Oh, good. I trust you two not to burn down the building. Try to leave by six, okay?"

"I gotta be home by then anyway," Jack said, shrugging with a perfect air of casualness.

Ms. Hamilton smiled indulgently and left, and I was suddenly aware of how very, very alone Jack and I were in the quiet library.

I chewed on the cap of my pen, a growing discomfort making itself known in my stomach.

"Why do you do that?" I asked suddenly.

Jack looked up from the handout he was reading. "Do what?"

"Flirt like that. With Ms. Hamilton. With everyone." Everyone but me, I added silently.

He paused as though he'd never thought about it before. "It's just a… thing. It's just what I do. I don't mean to." He shrugged. "Why, does it bother you?"

"No. I just wondered."

"Jealous?" He poked me with his bookmark.

My heart thumped wildly. "What?"

"Of my mad skills with the ladies."

"Oh." I tried not to sound disappointed. "No. I'm not jealous."

"Oh," Jack said like an obedient echo.

We stared at each other, my heart still beating out the passing seconds as though it hadn't realized that the scary part of the conversation was over. Jack looked at me soberly, probingly, like the answer to a question he didn't know he wanted to ask was written there. Seven slow heartbeats later he looked away again, and we returned to studious silence.

He worked on his English essay, and I peered over his shoulder every now and then, when I thought to look up from my own homework.

It was on one such occasion, as I pointed out that he had misspelled 'sequence,' that he turned his head and kissed me on the mouth.

I sputtered in surprise as he pulled away, and gaped at him for a moment. He looked at me, eyes narrowed, and then looked down.

"So you are," he said.

"Huh?"

"You are, y'know. Gay."

My heart resumed its incessant tattoo. "Yes," I said.

"Oh."

"Why? Does it matter?" I asked. My voice was petulant and defensive.

"I don't know." He was searching me again, peering into my eyes. "Does it?"

And then I kissed him, and he didn't pull away.

**V. Just Beyond the Red**

In between ultraviolet and infrared waves on the electromagnetic spectrum, there is a series of waves called the "visible" spectrum, composed of the rainbow colors from red to violet. These are the colors that make up the light we can see – all the colors combined make white light, the kind that you see when you turn on a light bulb. While he was studying these visible waves, Sir William Herschel found that just past the red end of the spectrum exist very low-frequency waves that will raise the temperature shown on a thermometer, but cannot be seen with the naked eye.

Jack called me the next day. I hadn't expected him to, but he did. That weekend we met at a movie theater, patted each other on the back, and split a large popcorn. For two hours I felt like a normal teenager. Afterwards Jack told me that he'd had a nice time, and that usually when he went to the theater on a date, he never actually _watched _the movie. I asked him what he did instead, and then realized that I should be asking him if it had actually been a date.

He didn't answer either question. Instead, he grabbed my hand and dragged me to his car, where we kissed again. As I walked home, I wondered what it all _meant_, and, finding no answer, resolved not to worry about it.

On Monday morning I got my answer. Jack smiled at me in the hallway, and I felt his hand brush mine as he passed. And I knew that what it meant was that if Sir William Herschel hadn't done it first, I probably could have discovered those low-frequency waves of heat. Not apparent to the human eye, but still there, still palpable, still provable. Just beyond the visible spectrum of light.

**VI. Chaos Theory**

Edward Lorenz, a meteorologist, was the person who lay down the foundations of the Butterfly Effect, or, as it's often referred to, the chaos theory. Highly simplified, the idea is that a butterfly that flaps its wings changes the atmosphere just enough to cause a typhoon halfway across the world.

I don't like the chaos theory. Honestly, with all due respect to Edward Lorenz, I think it's mostly bull. But as I lay on my bed, watching a leaf on the maple tree outside my window break off and flutter to the ground, I reflected on chaos theory and wondered if the maple tree had just inadvertently unleashed a tsunami over South Africa.

I considered raking the lawn when I heard the phone ring downstairs.

"David! Phone for you!" my mother yelled up the stairs.

I sighed and got up, taking the cordless phone from my mother without a word.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Davey."

"Hi," I said, cautiously.

"It's Jack."

"I know. You're the only person who calls me Davey."

"Oh." He sounded mildly perturbed at this.

"What's up?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice suddenly urgent.

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"It needs to be in person."

"Okay. We can talk tomorrow. There's a movie I want to see, and –"

"I was hoping it could be sooner than that."

"Oh. Okay…"

"Can I come over?" he asked.

I blinked several times, and then tried to make my voice sound nonchalant, as though this weren't the first time since third grade that anyone had asked to come over to my house of their own will. "Yeah, sure. Do you know where my house is?"

"Yeah. I'll be there in, like, twenty minutes."

"Okay." I hung up quickly, afraid I might let slip a word like 'love' when only meaning to say 'goodbye.' My mother watched me in fascination as I handed her the phone. I gave her a weak smile and went back into my room to wait for Jack.

He showed up a quarter of an hour later. I introduced him to my mother, hoping that she wouldn't embarrass me. Luckily, she kept all gushing comments to herself, though she did seem a little wide-eyed when Jack shook her hand, and called her ma'am.

As soon as I was able to drag him away from her, we went up to my room. Jack sat at my desk and fiddled with my mouse pad for a few minutes before starting the conversation.

"Look, I've never really done this before, so… I just…" Jack sighed and studied his hands. "Davey, you're nice. You're awesome. Really. I just… I don't think this is going to work out."

"This?" I asked.

He shrugged. "This whole… thing. The… whatever it is. Affair."

I bit back a laugh. "I'd hardly go so far as to call this an _affair_, Jack."

"Okay, but, I mean… what are we?" he asked.

I paused thoughtfully. "Boyfriends?"

He flinched.

"Or not! We don't… well…" I stopped. "Why _aren't_ we?"

He stared at me as though I'd grown another head. "Davey…"

"Jack…" I mimicked. "I mean, okay, we're friends, right?"

He nodded.

"We hang out fairly often. When we can. So we're pretty good friends?"

He shrugged and nodded again.

"And… we've kissed."

He blushed, and stared at the floor.

"Jack."

"Yeah, okay. We've kissed."

"And you – we enjoyed kissing? Kissing each other?" I tried to take it as slowly as possible.

"Yes," he said with an exasperated sigh. "We did. Okay? So?"

"Well, I'd like to think that that's sort of the mark of… people in a relationship. Of a _couple_. And… seeing as we're both boys… that would make us… you know." I trailed off to let him make the conclusion by himself. He continued to kick at my carpet sullenly. I sighed. "Jack, honestly, I'm not asking you to get married and have two kids and a puppy with me. I just wanted you to think about maybe, like, telling your parents or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, right. My parents."

"Or something," I said with a shrug.

He cracked his neck a few times and looked at me thoughtfully. "I don't get it. Why do you _want_ people to know that you're… you know…"

"Gay?" I finished.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah."

I had to think for a moment before replying. "I'm not sure," I said, "but I think it's just… that I don't like hiding. I like to be honest about who I really am. I… I think people have a right to know. Being gay is… sort of the way I explain myself. It's like... I'm gay, the same way that I'm quiet and insecure, antisocial and overly analytical, smart and sarcastic. It's just a part of me, like all those things. Not necessarily bad, not really good, just… me." I sighed, not sure if that was actually what I meant, or if I was just babbling, still searching for the answer myself. "What are you so afraid of?" I asked.

"I'm not afraid," Jack snapped, glaring at me.

"Okay." I rephrased myself. "Why don't you want people to know?"

He shrugged. "Reputation. Respect. College applications."

"What does college have to do with being gay, Jack?"

"I don't know," he said, pursing his lips. "I mean… I'm looking into a football scholarship – can't really afford to go anywhere without one, and I sure ain't getting one for being smart, no matter how much you tutor me. If I could bring you with me everywhere I go, you know, to define shit for me and spell check my notes …" he trailed off, with a faint smile that quickly faded away. "The coach is bringing college scouts to our games soon, and I'm really hoping someone's going to want to help me out, you know? And if I'm gay… I mean… gay football players, right? What kind of scout will be into that?"

"Whether or not you're gay shouldn't have any bearing on whether or not you get a scholarship. And _when_ you get a scholarship," I said, trying to sound as positive as I could, "you'll get it because you're a good player – not because of your sexual orientation."

Jack shrugged again. His face was masked in a deepening frown, maybe because what I was saying made sense, and he didn't want to hear it.

"Look, Jack, if you want to break up with me, you're going to have to come up with a better reason than this." I smiled at him, hoping to convey a sense of calm and patience, when what I really felt was a rising panic that this relationship, my first, which had lasted barely three weeks, was going to end today, and that there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He sighed, and looked at me with grave and bitter eyes. Any feeling of control that I'd had evaporated.

"What do you want me to say, Dave? I'm not going to come out. It's not like I haven't thought about this, you know. I'm not stupid. I've spent lots of time thinking about it. Thinking about… about what's best. Okay? And this is what's best."

"But why?" I insisted. It came out as a childish whine. "How do you know?"

"I just do. This will be better for both of us. I mean, come on, is this really what you want? Why would you want… someone like me?" He bit his lip, his fingers clenching and unclenching themselves seemingly of their own accord. "I'm not going to come out, I'm just not, I probably never will, and… fuck, I'm not even sure if I really am gay. You, Dave, David, you're a great guy. Honest. And if you actually looked, maybe came out of your shell, you know, I bet there'd be a guy who'd want to… who'd want you. Who'd want to be with you."

Because he didn't. Jack didn't want to be with me. I felt my heart beat speed up, could hear the pumping of blood in my ears, as the realization slowly sunk in. Jack didn't want me.

He looked so apologetic too, and I wondered if he felt the same spiraling sensation of helplessness that I did. "I'm sorry, David." He paused for a long time, took a deep breath, steadied himself. "My dad. He… doesn't like gays."

"Well, maybe if he found out that his son was…" I said, grasping for something to hold to.

"No," Jack said. "No way in hell."

"But maybe –"

"I said _no_, Dave. Okay? And you know why?" The outburst was sudden, too sudden. It seemed almost artificial, but maybe this was how breaking up worked. Now was the part where we got angry at each other. I wasn't sure if I could do it.

"Because he'd probably beat the shit out of me, that's why. Because it's not about whether or not I'm his son." Jack stood up suddenly. "My dad, unlike yours, isn't that nice of a guy. Okay? Strange as it may seem, but my life isn't perfect. It's not about me, not about who I am, about Jack Kelly. No, it's about the Cowboy, the rock star, the perfect player, the teammate. That's all I am to anybody, that's all I can be if I want to do anything with my life. If I want to be anyone, that's who I have to be. And when… _if_ he finds out that I'm..." He picked up his backpack. "He just can't know, no one can know, because my life doesn't work that way. So you know what? It's over. And…" he paused by the doorway, backpack hanging haphazardly over one shoulder. "And I'm sorry, Dave. I…" he stopped, shrugged, and shut the door behind him.

I heard him go down the stairs, heard the front door open and shut. I went to my window, and watched him through the maple leaves as he walked down the driveway and to his car. Before he pulled away, he looked back up at my window, partially obscured by the tree. Then he climbed into his car and sped out of view.

One more leaf broke away from its branch, a brilliant, vibrant, fiery red, and fluttered in the breeze as it twirled and sank, pulled down to the ground by an unseen force.

_fin._

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End file.
